


Intermission

by Katuary



Series: Cullen Rutherford & Evelyn Trevelyan [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Chance Meetings, Childhood Memories, Fate & Destiny, Gen, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, The Conclave, The Conclave (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 10:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20357296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katuary/pseuds/Katuary
Summary: Evelyn Trevelyan sees a familiar face during the Conclave."It took several surreptitious glances before Evelyn was sure it was him. When had she seen him last? Certainly before she'd been shipped off to the Circle, and he would have been a boy of five then."





	Intermission

It took several surreptitious glances before Evelyn was sure it was him. When had she seen him last? Certainly before she'd been shipped off to the Circle, and he would have been a boy of five then. 

Maxwell Trevelyan. Her younger brother.

She remembered the silly little people she'd made out of yarn, lopsided and with crude faces she and Max had taken turns painting on. Lord and Lady Trevelyan were always exasperated by what they saw as useless piles of scrap fabric. _You have real toys, Evelyn. Stop making a mess._ It was more fun making them herself though. She could create whole villages, dozens of warriors, nobles, and townsfolk to her liking. Max would poke his little head over her shoulder as she worked, offering his own critiques. 

* * *

_"That one's gotta funny leg, El."_

_"She lost it, I guess."_

_"How's that?"_

_"Mm...she was running away from pirates. And she got bit by a snake."_

_"Why?"_

_"She was fighting them with her sword, a big two-handed one like Papa has, and she stepped back, right when she thought the fight was over, and she stepped on its nest on accident. She had to chop her own leg off."_

_"Can she have an eye patch?"_

_"Those are for _pirates_, Max...oh, I know! She's the queen of the pirates now. The ones she fought were so impressed they made her the new leader."_

_"And then her brother came, right?"_

_"Okay, her brother came. And he has his own ships in her fleet because he's a big scary warrior too."_

_"They need swords. And she needs a peg leg too."_

_"Oh yeah...go grab some good sticks, Max. I think I can tie it to their hands..."_

* * *

Of course, their days hadn't all been so peaceful. Being only three years apart meant they fought like demons at least as often as they built kingdoms in the Ostwick courtyard. But these were the memories she'd clung to. She'd been told countless times how lucky she was she hadn't harmed him as a child. _Mages cannot control themselves outside the Circle. He was in danger every moment you were together. Your parents were right to be so vigilant. Don't be petulant, child. _

She and Max had been chasing fireflies in the courtyard, and she'd thought she'd caught one from the soft glow in her cupped hands. She'd knelt down to show Max, but there was nothing there...just the baffling golden glow bathing her upturned palms. Before either of them could react with more than a confused frown, she'd been scooped into her father's firm grip and deposited in the nursery alone. She was locked there for the night until the templars could come.

Her baby brother had grown in the intervening seventeen years. Obviously. The more striking thing was how much of her features she saw reflected in his. Same full lips. Nearly the same shade of golden brown hair, though he kept his nearly shaved at the sides of his head. Evelyn didn't mean to stare, but the weight of her attention disturbed him nonetheless. As he approached during a break in the Conclave, she fixated on the fact that they didn't quite share the same eye color. Both lay on that odd border between green and blue, but his were lighter and sharper. 

A line drew between his brows as he frowned.

"Evelyn." His tone was flat, impersonal. 

"Maxwell." She hid her disappointment behind a tight and cordial smile. His eyes flicked to her staff, then met her gaze again. Evelyn wondered if he wished the daggers sheathed at his back were in his hands instead. He shook his head.

"You should have stayed in your Circle." The chastisement in his voice, as if she were a wayward child, made her bristle.

"_That..._" She paused, took a breath through her nose to hold her temper. It wouldn't do for anyone to see a mage showing any sort of negative emotion. Not here. Not when this entire gathering was a cask of gaatlok waiting to be ignited. She shook her head and continued, "That wasn't an option."

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. When had he grown taller than her? Anger and aching loneliness, the desire to _belong_ again, fought in her mind as he responded,

"What, because some maleficar in Kirkwall went insane? All the mages in Thedas needed to throw their lot in because one of their own leapt from a bridge?"

"Is _that_ what you heard?" She took a grounding breath, briefly squeezed her eyes shut, "Of course it was. Selfish little mages eager to bite the hand that feeds them, is that right?"

"No. It's _selfish_ to demand the run of the realm when you can kill a man without a weapon or bring a demon into the world with a bad dream."

His voice was as level and controlled as hers, but this was rapidly escalating despite their barely-held civility. Evelyn knew they would draw attention soon enough, but she couldn't let this stand. She had to _try_ to help him understand. Her short nails bit into her palms, fingertips chilled and coated with a thin layer of ice, but she couldn't run. Not yet.

"So the solution is templars sneaking into the mages' quarters with a Tranquil brand? Trying to kill us if they don't succeed in branding us in our sleep?" She saw Maxwell hesitate briefly, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. But it changed nothing.

"If it protects the rest of us?" he challenged, "Yes. It would be a better world without your kind holding it hostage."

Evelyn froze, her face twisting and eyes pricking for a moment before she recovered. She straightened her spine and let her face fall into a neutral mask. Neutral as a diplomat here to do her job representing her people, _not_ the neutral and benign smile of a Tranquil waiting to be assigned her duty. She thought she saw regret in her brother's eyes, but roughly dismissed that as wishful thinking.

"Very well," she said coolly, "I believe you have other business then."

"Evelyn, I..."

She had already turned away, refusing to linger and hope any longer for the cheerful little boy she'd known to resurface. She needed air, some place away from the bustle and buzzing whispering of the other attendees. Hazarding an ill-advised glance over her shoulder, she saw Max had strode off in the opposite direction. Clearly, he shared the wish to be as far from her as possible. 

* * *

She would have returned once she'd walked the length of the temple, perhaps tried to put things right, but she heard a cry for help. A familiar voice behind a set of heavy doors. It could have just as easily been anyone else who investigated. Could have been her brother had Evelyn chosen a different direction to escape the crowds.

"What's going on here?"

**Author's Note:**

> My head canon is that all potential Inquisitors are at the Conclave...but only the one you select survives. I'm taking some liberties with the Ostwick Circle and how it relates to the rebellion. I didn't find anything particularly specific on that front, so I'm going to wing it!


End file.
